A Glance Into the Soul
by Veralidaine
Summary: Okay, I was depressed a few weeks ago and wrote this. It's a sort of diary thing. Of Hermione's. It's pretty good, and it's even a little R/H! Yay! But only a little, H/H people...


A/N: Yes, yes, I know. I should be working on Fa A Bhialainn Ann, but I just posted part 4, so I figure   
I can take a break if I want to. Oh, and if you've not read Fa A Bhialainn Ann, GO READ IT! AND REVIEW!  
Okay, I'm done shamelessly plugging.   
  
I was depressed when I wrote this. Crybaby, this is my first attempt at posting a R/H fic. *H/H shippers  
all head towards exit* Hey! It's only a LITTLE R/H! Come on, humor me!  
  
So, other than being utterly depresssing, tell me how it is, okay? I just thought I'd try to do a sort   
of monologue thingy. Sorry if someone else has done something similar. They may have. I don't recall  
reading one similar. Also, if my incredibly spur-of-the-moment title is already taken, please don't   
flame me about it. In fact, please don't flame me about anything.  
  
A Glance Into the Soul  
  
By Veralidaine   
  
Erm...this is the recorded journal of Hermione Granger. I've managed to bewitch this book of parchment   
so it will write what I say. It's much, much easier than writing down everything, and gives me much more  
time for homework and studying. And that's always useful, of course.  
  
* pause *  
  
Of course, I have to record this in a private place so that no one overhears me. That is a drawback. Oh,  
well.  
  
Perhaps I should start from the beginning. I'm a muggle-born, which earns me much torment among--ahem--  
CERTAIN students. I was born to Cassandra and Paul Granger on September 23, 1980. My mother was highly   
into the arts and such--writing, poetry, art, music, and so on. My father just wanted to see me succeed.  
Because of them, I make excellent grades and do very well in school. I always have.   
  
However, I discovered at about the age of eleven that I was not ordinary in the least. I ended up going   
to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and have done quite well for myself. But at first, it   
wasn't that grand. I put too much emphasis on grades and school, and was therefore not very social. I   
never had any true friends, and I would much rather visit the library than go to a party.  
  
Oh, t=yes, I had friends before Hogwarts, but they weren't the kind that last a lifetime. They were   
short-term. One year you were friends, the next they'd found someone else. It was unstable, but I didn't  
mind. Friends weren't what I cared about. All I needed was to know what happened in the next chapter of   
"Little Women," or whatever book I had my nose buried in at the time. That was satisfaction enough for   
me.  
  
So, it was only to be expected that once I got to Hogwarts, I didn't put "make friends" at the top of my  
To Do list. I wanted to be the very best there was. That was my goal. And I was bossy, I admit. Looking   
back, I probably wouldn't want to have been my friend. I went around criticizing and being, well, a   
Know-It-All, as Ron calls me. Ron--well, I'll get to him soon enough.  
  
As it was, I was perfectly happy with the way my social life was. Well, I managed to convince myself   
that I was, anyway. Every night when I would lie down to sleep, a little voice in the back of my mind   
would ask, "Are you really happy?" Of course, I wasn't, but I wasn't going to admit that; not to myself,   
or to anyone else, for that matter. I kept thinking, 'I should be happy! I've got all the books I want   
in the library, I'm going to the best school of magic in all of Britain, I'm smart, I make good   
grades...'   
  
The list was endless, but I wasn't happy. I had no real company. I contented myself with daydreams about   
the characters in my books being real people. I kept thinking how wonderful it would be, having them for   
friends. Someone who I knew so well, who knew me so well, that we could talk about anything and   
everything. But, still, I kept to myself.  
  
The day I finally cracked was on Halloween. I was working with Ron Weasley in Charms, and had managed to  
levitate a feather, even though he couldn't. Well, he was doing it all wrong! He didn't pronounce the   
charm correctly and--ahem--well, I'm off the subject. Anyway, he got angry. I was on my way out of class  
and heard him telling Harry Potter what a 'nightmare' I was, and how it was no wonder why I had no   
friends.   
  
That was it. Deep down inside me I knew he was right. I knew it. And, believe me, the truth hurts like   
nothing else. It's excruciatingly painful.   
  
So I cried.  
  
I tried not to let anyone see me. I wouldn't let anyone know that it had hurt, that I was the way I was.  
I wasn't about to let anyone know that I wasn't happy with the way I am. If there was anything my   
parents stressed, it was that I should be happy with who I am. That I should appreciate myself for who I  
am. That once I was out of school, and the adult world was opened to me, I would positively thrive,   
because I'm smart and talented. At that moment, though, the adult world couldn't have been lower on my   
list of priorities. I had no friends.  
  
So I retreated to the Girls' Bathroom. The part of my mind that was normally in control was screaming   
that I'd be late--or miss--class. The part that was now in control, though, the part that cared about my  
feelings, didn't care in the least about classes. I sat and wept in that stupid stall for about two   
hours. And I still didn't feel better.   
  
Once, Parvati Patil came in to see if I was there. I didn't answer her; just kept crying. She left after  
a moment, and I resumed my sobbing. I cried because I worked so hard for school, only to find it wasn't   
the single most important part of life. I cried because I hadn't realized this sooner. And I cried   
because I longed for companionship. I had no one. No shoulder to cry on. No one to talk to.  
  
My watch (I've got a magic one, not battery-operated, so I can use it at Hogwarts) said it was about six  
o'clock, by the time I stopped throwing up. Yes, I got sick. I cried so long, and so hard, that it   
literally made me sick to my stomach. In the current state, I wasn't too anxious to go to the Halloween   
feast. I'd just see that horrid Ron again and a whole new wave of depression would sweep over me. And I   
couldn't go to the Girls' Dormitory; Parvati was there. And she'd probably told the whole school by   
then. No, all in all, I wouldn't have minded disappearing off the face of the Earth. The thought of not   
facing another day was comforting. So, I was unresponsive when the troll arrived.  
  
Later, I found it was our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who'd let it in, but that was hardly of   
my concern at the moment. The thing was about twelve feet tall and very angry about something. I just   
froze as it came towards me. Of course, my instincts forced me to be afraid, and to scream, but in my   
mind it was almost welcome. So what if it killed me? So what if I never graduated? So what, so what, so   
what? I didn't care...  
  
That's why I was so surprised when Harry and Ron arrived. Ron distracted it while Harry tried to get me  
to move. Of course, I had been in the same position since hours earlier and wasn't in the mood to move.   
My mind was numb. It had already decided I was dead. My body had followed. By the time I managed to get   
my soul to realize it was still among the mortal realms, Ron had used the charm from earlier to knock   
the thing out with its own club, while Harry stuck his wand, of all places, up the troll's nose.   
  
Long story...  
  
But anyway, Professor McGonagall arrived, as well as Professor Quirrel (who had let the thing in in the  
first place...) and Professor Snape. I wasn't going to let Harry and Ron get into trouble for saving me,   
so I said I'd come to fight it on my own and they'd saved me just in time. It was a lie, and I think   
that Professor McGonagall knew, but she let it go at that. They each earned five points, and I lost   
five. I ran up to the Common Room ahead of them, hoping I wouldn't have to explain myself. Just after I   
got inside, they came through the portrait hole. There was quite a pause, then we all thanked each other  
shortly. And after that, somehow--miraculously--we were friends.  
  
I think that, in the beginning, we were friends mostly so that Harry and Ron could get their homework   
done. I didn't mind--it was companionship, no matter how distant. We went through the years solving   
mysteries, having adventures, and getting closer. Granted, I'm still a stickler for rules, and have much  
academic ego, but I have friends now. I still can't believe it sometimes. Harry and Ron are my best   
friends.   
  
And they will never know how thankful I am for that.   
  
I can't tell them...I just can't. I know it doesn't make sense, but...I can't. It would make them feel   
that I'm weaker. And I don't want that. Harry's already very protective of me. He's like a brother, and   
Ron...Well, I've forgiven him for insulting me in first year. It's been five years. Five years full of   
bickering and arguing over stupid little things. He has a wicked tongue and constantly (and often   
loudly) expresses his opinions, especially if they contradict mine. But for some reason, we're very   
close. Of course, with my social skills, I can never hope to get any closer, but my new policy is one   
obstacle at a time. Besides, I'm annoyed with him right now. He's--well, I'm off-subject again. Sorry.   
  
Anyway, I've been recording for ages, and I'm supposed to go watch Ron and Harry at Quidditch practice.   
So I've got to wrap this up quickly:  
  
This concludes the first entry of my journal, and gives whosoever may read this a clue as to why I am   
the way I am. I only hope Fred and George don't get a hold of this...Well...  
  
Farewell for now.  
  
Hermione   
  
A/N: Okay, guys. Please review. *smiles sweetly* Please? 


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